


Godly

by Dammitdraco



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8th year, Drarry, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Jealousy, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6530179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dammitdraco/pseuds/Dammitdraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter has always seen Draco Malfoy as a god, someone who could never be hurt. During their 8th year, Harry finds him more obsessed than ever, and he doesn't know why! He brings it upon himself to make Malfoy one of his problems, and soon finds that Malfoy isn't much of a god, though Harry certainly does worship him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Questions

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!

It started as it almost always did. Harry sat on the couch, staring down at the map that was, these days, the root of the majority of his problems. Ron and Hermione, and generally everyone else, had thought that he’d be over stalking Malfoy now that the war was over. Instead, Malfoy was his number one obsession, and his favorite topic of discussion.  
Harry could not get the brain inside his head to work properly. No matter how many times he asked himself, he could not find the answer to just one simple question: Why had he saved Malfoy?  
Harry was not a hero. Regardless of what had happened the last few months, the last few years even, he was not a hero and he didn’t want to be. Yet, he’d saved his worst enemy. Well, his worst casual enemy.  
He had gone out of his way to save Draco “Stupid” Malfoy. That gorgeous blond hair, those beautiful, wonderful eyes… Wait, what? No, no!  
Every ridiculous and idiotic cell in Malfoy’s body was there because of Harry. And why? He hated him! They hated each other!  
He sat there on the couch and stared at the odd magical object. He still didn’t know how is family had made it. Then again, he didn’t know much anymore.  
Malfoy paced about the Slytherin Common Room, and Harry considered going down there.  
Starting at the beginning of this year, some rules had been changed. To start, the Common Rooms no longer had passwords. Professor McGonagall, affectionately known as “Mum” by many of the older students, decided that passwords kept everyone separated. After what they’d all been through, they should all be united without barriers.  
So, Harry thought about going down there. Malfoy had hardly left the Common Room since they’d gotten back last week. Harry really just wanted to rip him out of there and put an end to his infinite pacing. He’d kiss him if he had to.  
No, no he wouldn’t!  
Harry Potter was not going to kiss Draco Malfoy. He didn’t want his lips anywhere near Malfoy. He didn’t even want to speak the name. Yet, it always just slipped out.  
“Malfoy is pacing again, Hermione.” Harry said. He sounded much more like a whiny, complaining child than he meant to.  
“Congratulations, Harry. You have now spent a week observing Malfoy do the exact same thing. He’s always pacing. I bite my nails, Ron yells, you find something to focus on. We all have different nervous reactions.” Hermione replied from across him. She was clearly annoyed.  
“What does he have to be nervous about Hermione? It’s just Malfoy.”  
“He has friends that died in the same halls that he walks through.”  
Harry shut up pretty quickly after that. It hadn’t occurred to him that Malfoy was an actual person with actual feelings. Not that he would tell you if you asked, but he secretly thought of Malfoy as some kind of god.  
It was by no means because he was cute. It also wasn’t because he had some weird effect on Harry that could only be explained by magic, which meant something seeing as he was literally in a school for magic. He’d just always thought that Malfoy was somehow immortal, that he couldn’t be hurt.  
“If you’re so obsessed on why he’s been pacing, maybe you should go ask him.” Ginny sighed from next to him.  
She was tired of this. To be fair, she was tired of it before now, but that was not the point. This was out of hand and ridiculous. She could understand his obsession when he broke up with her so he could focus on his task. But was this the only thing that was keeping them from being together again? She just couldn’t stand for that.  
“I just might.” Harry muttered, though he hadn’t been paying very much attention to what she’d said.  
The pacing had stopped and Malfoy was leaving the Slytherin Common Room. He was leaving! Harry suddenly got a churning feeling in his stomach. Should he follow him, or just watch from the map?  
To hell with it.  
Harry ran.  
He ran up the stairs to his dormitory. He threw the map onto his bed.  
He ran.  
He ran out of the Common Room, through the halls, nearly shoving people out of his way.  
He ran.  
He ran all the way out of the castle. He hadn’t seen Malfoy come this way, and he didn’t know why he had such speed for someone who didn’t care. But when he came to the Black Lake, to the tree where Malfoy sat, shaking feverishly, he started to care quite a bit.  
He didn’t know if he should stay or go. Malfoy had obviously intended for this to be a private moment. Did Harry care though? He sure seemed like he could use the company.  
He decided quickly. Malfoy didn’t seem to have noticed Harry there. So, Harry walked away.  
He was almost out of breath, though it didn’t feel like it was from the running. Harry’s god was breaking down a mere 50 feet from him, and there was nothing he could think to do.  
Leaving him seemed like the right thing to do. He could always ask him about it later.  
No, he couldn’t.  
Harry turned around, and he walked back to the tree. He couldn’t tell you why he’s done it. He surely didn’t feel right leaving someone to panic all by themselves.  
He sat down next to Malfoy without a thought. Staring off in the same direction, Harry put his hand on Malfoy’s shoulder.  
Malfoy didn’t move from his touch, he just quickly glanced to see who it was. He stared back out at the lake, still shaking as if it was freezing outside. It was actually quite warm, but Harry knew that the weather had nothing to do with it.  
“Just breathe.” Harry sighed, trying to help but not wanting to seem like he gave a shit.  
“Obviously, Potter, it’s essential for basic life.”  
Harry almost laughed. At least when Malfoy wasn’t Malfoy, he was still Malfoy.  
It was over quickly. The shaking ended, grey eyes met green. Harry moved his hand as Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, surely it would be offensive.  
“Thank you.” He said, right before rushing off.  
That left Harry confused. Was he sure that was Malfoy?


	2. Corridor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione have a chat.

The map sat on Harry’s bed, sad and lonely. This was the first day in a week and a half that Harry hadn’t woken up groping for it, hoping to see Malfoy in bed, in perhaps his most simple and pure form. Harry hadn’t even looked at the map, in fact. He’d just gotten ready and left.  
Not much had changed between him and Malfoy in the last three days. Except, Malfoy stared at Harry a lot. That wasn’t too much of a problem, besides the fact that now Harry couldn’t stare at him without Malfoy knowing.  
Since that brief time at the Black Lake, Harry seemed to stalk Malfoy just a little more. Much more, actually. He’d even skipped an entire class just to watch Malfoy study in the library. He even often times found himself sitting in the Slytherin Common Room.  
Ron and Hermione constantly found themselves joking about how he wanted to be “united with Draco without barriers”, which didn’t mean at all what Harry had thought, nor what Professor McGonagall had intended when she’d said it. “Be one with Malfoy”, was also used frequently, which Harry actually did understand with blushing cheeks and muttered swears.  
Dean and Seamus always got a kick out of the jokes, though Ginny hated them with a burning passion. Harry was hers. No amount of blond hair and gel was going to change that if she could help it.   
Harry had tried to tell her multiple times that he just wasn’t interested. “Tried” was the key word, of course. It always came out wrong. He would say that he’s not ready, or needs to focus on school. Neither of those were particularly true, which just caused even more irritation to grow.   
Harry sat next to Rona at the lunch table. Dean and Seamus were near them, being terribly open with their flirting and kissing. While he found most signs of public affection disgusting, he somewhat admired them. How nice it must be to know wh0 you are, what you want, and who you love.  
Ron shoveled his mouth full of anything that was in reach. Chips, apple slices, everything. Harry just picked at a sandwich. He was hungry enough to eat it all in one bite, but he could feel a certain blond staring at him, and it was making him rather self-conscious.  
Then, he thought that he was being stupid. He was the Boy who Lived, the person that killed Voldemort once and for all! He should be able to eat a bloody sandwich if he wanted, without worrying about anyone else.   
That mindset worked well for him, until he put so much into his mouth that he couldn’t even chew.  
Across the way, Draco watched Harry, and Blaise watched Draco. The darker boy couldn’t stop himself from shaking his head. For years Draco had been obsessed with Potter, and to was far beyond out of hand.  
Draco had, a few times, had flings with girls. Pansy, for instance, Draco casually dated on and off for a year. No matter how much he actually liked a girl, or other boy for that matter, he was never as emotionally invested in his partner as he was in the delusion that maybe Potter would notice him.  
But Blaise didn’t know that Potter had noticed him. Potter had comforted Draco, had laid his hand on Draco’s shoulder when he really needed it. That was all that Draco really needed to justify whatever this was.  
Draco could not find it in himself to really care what Blaise thought of him anymore. For years, he was trying to impress everyone around him, but he was done with that. He was just Draco, and that was all he needed to be anyways.  
Draco stood just as Pansy approached. He told her and Blaise that he would see them later, though that wasn’t necessarily true. Who knew when he would actually see them?  
On the 7th floor, not so far off from the Gryffindor Common Room, there was a corridor. On the walls hung many portraits, portraits of those lives that were lost in the war. Draco found himself there, amongst all the faces.   
He sat on the floor, staring up at all of them. Some of them were once friends, some he had never even met. He knew. He played a big part in their deaths. He knew he shouldn’t blame himself, but he could not change what he did.   
Tears silently rolled down his cheeks. Luckily, there was no shaking or major breathing issues this time, just the tears. That was enough, though. Draco had played with the wrong side, no matter if he was willing or not. His people, his family, had helped kill innocent people, and for what? Control? It’s not like they would have even had anything with that slimy man (if you could call him that) in a state of power.  
Draco had nothing.   
Realistically, he still had quite a bit. His family was still very wealthy, they still had a mansion and many possessions. Spiritually, Draco had nothing. He didn’t even have peace.  
“It took us forever to get those done, you know. We had to get the names of everyone who died. Not just in the battle, either, everyone that was killed because of him. It took two months, ten painters. Most of them were fairly nice, wouldn’t even accept payment, except one who demanded it. Sad, isn’t it? Even creating something like this, someone can think so selfishly.”  
Draco looked up to meet her face. She’d gotten much prettier from when they’d first met, that was certain. He couldn’t think of a proper response while she sat down next to him, perhaps too close for two people who had hated each other.  
“Do you come down here a lot? I think most people tend to avoid it; it hurts to see them all.” Hermione asked. She genuinely cared, because she stood by what she’d said a few days ago. Draco Malfoy was just as hurt by this war as anyone else.  
“Not often. I’ve been down once before, but it was an accident. I know that some of them are here because of me.” Draco spoke so quietly. No one else was in the corridor, no one else would hear them. Yet, the quietness seemed appropriate.  
“No, I don’t think that’s true. You gave no orders, you were simply forced to follow them. I don’t think you are a bad person, Draco. And I’m not the only one with that opinion, either.”  
Draco snorted.   
“Yeah? Who else thinks of me as an actual person?”  
“Harry does. Well, in a way. He knows that it isn’t your fault. No one here is against you besides yourself. Talk to Harry, because he knows exactly what you are going through, and I honestly think he needs someone to talk to as well,”  
With that, she stood and walked away. He long and now manageable hair swayed behind her. She left just like that, and left Draco asking so many questions.


	3. Comfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco have some deep talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Tell me what you think <3

Draco had spent hours contemplating what Hermione had said. How could Potter possibly know what he was going through? He had slain a dragon and the Dark Lord before he was even 18. And what had Draco done in his life? He’d been turned into a ferret, bullied people, and had fought the wrong side of the war.  
He knew what people would say if he spoke how he felt. Sure, it was in his past, but why should that mean that it doesn’t matter anymore? Sure, he had lots of family influence, and not so much of a choice, but he could have worked it out. He could have at least been a decent person for the first five years at Hogwarts.  
All Draco had wanted was for Potter to be his friend. Not even just to be associated with him, so that he could say that he was friends with Potter. He wanted a true and honest friend, not someone he is only friends with out of necessity,  
Crabbe and Goyle had to be his friend, if you could have even called them that. They’d known each other since they were children, but had they ever really known anything about each other? Did they talk about their real problems, and were they comfortable with silence? No, they always had to fill it with pointless talk that was, frankly, uncomfortable and exhausting.  
Blaise was somewhat a real friend. They could at least talk about school work, and why they hated a specific teacher. They could sit in the same room and read books without talking. Blaise would listen to Draco talk about his problems, but never bothered to try to actually understand, which was beyond irritating to Draco because he might as well have been talking to a wall.  
Pansy was as close as he had to a friend like he wanted. She would listen, try to understand. The problem was, she always found a way to make it about herself. It wasn’t even as if she tried to relate, because he could handle that. She all out made it about her, as if he could never think about anything else.  
Potter would have understood. Before the war and the mess with the Dark Lord, Potter would have known what Draco was going through. The both of them had so much pressure on them to be someone great, it would have made sense for them to be friends.  
Draco often found himself imagining what life would be like with him as a friend. What if he hadn’t been so snobby when they met, if he hadn’t made a comment about Weasley? Would the Dark Lord still be alive? Potter would understand that too, the fear Draco had. How many people could say that Voldemort had lived in their house and terrorized their family?  
The hall of the portraits had become one of Draco’s favorite spots. He liked seeing the faces like this, smiling and happy, rather than seeing them dead, as he did in all of his dreams. He still felt partially responsible, but was oddly comforted by them. Draco had always found that the dead said so much, even in their peaceful quiet.   
He could hear people walking through the other halls of the castle, chatting with their friends and laughing heartily. There was even a cry of, “Give me my cat back!”, along with the rhythmic sound of running, and a soft “meow”.  
Draco had always felt as if Hogwarts was his real home. The manor was too empty, too large for so few people. It was always so quiet, so eerie. Not to mention, quite a few of his family’s past generations had died there. Too much space.  
“Deep thoughts?” Potter asked, sitting next to him.   
Draco hadn’t expected anyone to come and talk to him. He especially did not expect Potter to come talk to him. Why was Potter asking him about his thoughts? Was that something Potter usually did? What was this?  
How does he respond to this? Should he be genuine? Vague? They were passed pretending that Draco was okay, Potter had seen him have a panic attack, for Merlin’s sake.  
“Not particularly deep, no. I mostly just like their company.” Draco said. It wasn’t a lie, but also just vague enough for comfort.  
“They’re portraits of dead people, it can’t be such great company.” Harry almost laughed. This was farther than he had ever expected getting with Malfoy.  
“They’re pure. They have never been so pure and peaceful as they are here and now. From the time these people were children, they were fighting battles, no matter how big or small. They were pressed with sexuality, and violence, and dependency. They don’t have to fight any more, Potter. One day, neither will we.”  
Welp, there it was. Draco had formulated and spoken a very deep answer, and he most definitely didn’t mean to. He was mostly worried that Potter would find it odd. Damn it all to hell, then. Why should he have to censor his thoughts? Stupid Potter was the one who asked in the first place.  
“That’s fairly true. Do you wish you were dead, Draco?”   
“I wish that I had some of the benefits that the dead do. However, I can’t pretend for a moment that I wouldn’t terribly miss living. Butterbeer, warm blankets, a good book. I’d miss it all so much. It’s the simple things, Potter, that make the difference between living and existing.”  
Harry stared at him. Draco Malfoy, a god underneath the sun, was having a human discussion with him. A civil one, at that.   
Harry almost found it odd. You had to be disgustingly comfortable with someone to say such things. And, in a way, they were. They weren’t particularly friendly, but they were comfortable with each other.  
“Would you miss your family, Draco? They put you through so much, would you miss them if they were no longer around, whatever the reason?”  
“I think so. Every mistake was a lesson learned. I would not miss them trying to control me, or them thinking they know better than I do about myself. But I would miss them.”   
“I miss my parents, you know. I didn’t ever get to know them, and I’ve come to terms with that. I don’t know what they were like, or how much they were in love. People tell me things, but words get changed as they are passed. It is ridiculous to miss someone that you have never known?”  
“I don’t think so. I would, I think. At least you know that they were good.”  
“You are good, Draco. You are so undoubtedly good. I admire you, you know. Unlike so many others, you did the right thing when no one else was looking, and that makes you braver than half of the people I know.”  
Harry set a hand on Draco’s knee, and he stared up at the portrait of Cedric Diggory. He’d meant what he said, and it felt so right to have said it. Though he wasn’t expecting it, Draco softly put his head on Harry’s shoulder, and it was comfortable.


	4. Struck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry stops being and idiot

Harry sat on the couch, next to the fire. In front of him, Draco paced. Rather than being annoyed, Harry just watched him with an eyebrow cocked.   
“Would you like to talk about it, Draco?” He asked.  
Draco just shook his head and continued on. He wrung his fingers together, shoved them through his hair, cracked them constantly. He even gnawed on his lip, which was driving Harry crazy; Draco was going to hurt himself.  
“I need to get out of here,” He said, suddenly almost out of breath.   
Harry quickly grabbed his hand and began rushing towards the Black Lake. To most of the people they’d passed, it almost seemed to make sense that they were holding hands, sneaking off to Merlin knows where.  
“Sit down.” Harry whispered once they reached a log, which he thought to be a good stopping point.   
Draco did as he said, staring out past everything. He didn’t know why this had happened. After years of fighting and hating each other, they were here together, with Harry even taking care of him.   
“What was it like when you were a kid? How was your family life?” Harry asked, sitting next to him. A distraction, yes. Harry was also genuinely curious. Childhood Malfoy? He’s pay 30 galleons to hear that story, but he could hear it now for free.  
“Still rather dysfunctional. My dad worked all the time, day and night. I had a nanny for most of the time, even though my mum didn’t work. She’d always wanted a daughter; she used to put me in dresses and smack makeup on my face. At one point, she even had my hair grow out to my shoulders. We had a house elf that was, oddly enough, sort of my friend.”  
“Dobby?”  
“Yeah, Dobby. Did you know him?”  
“I did know him very well, before Bellatrix…”  
“Right. I try to block that out as much as I can, it was a very dark time. What my aunt did to Granger was terrible, I’m glad I didn’t have much influence from her growing up. You know Neville Longbottom’s parents?”  
“Frank and Alice. I met them once, during our 5th year. What about them?”  
“I’ve visited them. Just a couple of times, but that has to count for something. I don’t feel guilty exactly, because I know that I was just a baby and couldn’t have done anything to help even if I wanted to. However, I do feel as though I have a duty to prove to them that I’m better, that I would never hurt someone as they have been hurt.”  
Harry didn’t say anything. Instead, he just stared at Draco. Draco simply watched the water and trees. He looked deep inside of him self, too. He wished that he had something very interesting to tell Harry, but there was nothing. Nothing he could find, at least.  
What Draco didn’t know was that he could have spoken about anything. The reason Harry asked so many questions was because he loved his voice, just how he spoke in general.  
“Stop staring at me, Potter.”   
Harry looked away quickly, as if he was trying not to get caught watching him, even though he already had been. Draco almost laughed about it, but then decided not to. Why? Who knows.  
The water rippled as the wind blew. The leaves, whatever was left of them, blew off of their trees and fell to the ground. Those that fell into the lake swirled together in an endless stream of color. Red, yellow, brown, splashes of green. They all moved together fluidly. The sound of the water was soothing, much different from the Slytherin Common Room, which sounded, as far as Harry knew, like the inside of a fish bowl.   
Granted, Harry had never been inside of a fish bowl. The place was just so muffled. Someone could have been killed in there and hardly anyone would have known.  
That’s when it really hit Harry. Draco had seen his friends killed and tortured, some in that very room where he spent so much of his time. He himself had most likely been tortured, in the very place where he now sleeps. As far as Harry was concerned, Draco had plenty of reason to pace.


End file.
